While the werewolf changes his drink order—much to Thorvinn’s disapproval—I ask, “What is Valentine’s Day?”
“Ofcourseyou know nothing about it,” the werepanther teases. “It’s the day humans celebrate romantic love.”
“I don’t see you mated,” I snap. “Your witch barely talks to you.”
“At least I try.”
“He’s got you there,” Rune says.
“Shows what you know.” I take a swig of ale. “I spoke to Skye this very day.”
“Ha!” Shadow points at me. “I knew you liked the blonde.” My scowl doesn’t deter him in the slightest. The annoying cat’s grin remains firmly in place. “But were youromantic?”
Memory washes over me: Skye in my arms as we waltzed across the dance studio, the softness of her little hand in mine, the sweet scent of her skin, the allure of her flower-pink lips, the way she looked up at me, her eyes filled with delight…
Was her pleasure because we danced? Or was it because I was a man instead of a weredragon?
I shake the vision away and lie, “Of course it wasn’t romantic. I hired her to catalog my library.”
“Yeah, that won’t do atall.” Shadow shakes his head. “All three of you had better get really romantic really quickly, or you’re going to be in trouble.”
“I’ve claimed my mate.” Rune tugs down the collar of his shirt to show off the mate mark over his heart.
“I’ve not only claimed mine.” Severin smirks. “I’m already married to her.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Shadow’s grin stretches wide. “They’re all going to expect something special and romantic on Valentine’s Day, or they’ll be disappointed.”
I brush off his words as unimportant and settle in to enjoy more drinking and banter. Yet when I return to the castle to find Skye’s romance book still hovering in midair, I wonder…
What if I need to understand romance to break her spell?
It’s time to order more books.
CHAPTER SIX
Skye
Early—always way too early—a familiar kneading sensation pulls me awake the next morning.
I crack open one eye, trying to hold still, so she’ll think I’m asleep. But my cat’s too smart for that. A hopeful little meep sounds as two amber eyes peek over the edge of my comforter. As soon as Princess Buttercup confirms I’m awake, the calico starts purring even louder, the sound echoing off the walls like someone trapped an engine in the room. Her little paws knead my tummy in a faster rhythm.
“You want breakfast, huh?” I dig my hand into the long, soft fur of her ruff, scratching under her chin. She’s a lovely mix of black, white, and orange made even more beautiful by being a longhair, and she knows it, ruling the house with a queenly air. “As you wish.”
It’s an ongoing joke that goes with her name. She mightnot understand the words from my favorite book and movie,The Princess Bride, but my cat knows I’ll always do as she wants.
She purrs harder and pushes her head into my hand. It ought to defy the laws of physics for a nine-pound cat to be able to purr so loudly, but I’ve always said cats are magical, even before magic returned to the world.
Light filters through the gauzy white curtains covering the window, blushing the walls of my bedroom a pale pink. A yawn cracks my jaw as I check the clock. Six am My usual waking time, though who even knows if I have a reason to get up this early today? Things are still up in the air with whether Luke will hire me to catalog his library.
Princess Buttercup crawls up my torso to give my chin a lick so light her raspy tongue feels soft, her amber eyes gazing up at me in adoration.
“Thank you, sweetie.” I cuddle her to me, her ratcheting purr louder this close to my ear and one of the best sounds in the world.
Cradling her with one arm, I push down the pink quilted comforter and climb out of bed. My toes dig into the fluffy pink rug, and the cool air of my bedroom makes goosebumps break out across my skin. I slide on my feathered pink slippers before I brave the cottage’s hardwood floors. I love sleeping with the heat low and piling on the blankets to create a yummy cocoon, but it does make winter mornings nippy. The fact that I sleep in nothing more than a gauzy babydoll slip and panties set might have something to do with that, too. It makes me feel pretty in case I meet the guy of my dreams in my dreams.
I click down the hallway, pausing only to turn up the thermostat, then enter the kitchen. This cottage was my grandmother’s retirement home, and it’s small and cozy and utterly perfect for me. The sunny yellow kitchen remains my favorite room, containing so many happy memories full of love and creation and joy. She was the town baker when I was little, and I spent so many amazing evenings and weekends here with her. Food is definitely my love language.
Princess Buttercup wiggles and lets out an excited mrrr as I pull a can of her favorite chicken wet food from the cupboard. I press a kiss to her soft forehead and set her down. The entire time it takes me to open the can and portion her meal into a little bowl, she circles my calves, purring and pressing against me in a constant reminder that she’s there.
